My Brother's Keeper
by Pluto-360
Summary: Sometimes the one's role as an older brother calls for him to protect those under his watch. Whether they appreciatee it or not. France-centric.


**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

_**My Brother's Keeper**_

France will to this day stand by his declaration that he can't see the little imaginary creatures("fae") that England speaks of and converses with on occasion.

He, however, knew on that day, centuries ago, that the creature eyeing the scruffy island nation on that fateful day was neither man nor beast.

On that day, France had taken it upon himself to visit the savage child nation. The reason for his trip, however, leaned more towards boredom than any sense of responsibility or duty that could be tied to his "seniority" as a fellow nation. Not that France could ever tire of his home. It was just that England was beginning so become a source of amusement.

France chuckled despite himself, nodding to passing travelers along the dirt path.

Even as a child, he was so easy to goad and needle and his reactions were ferocious. France began to wonder if terrorizing England held the same unrestricted glee as Antonio's bull fights, taunting the enraged animal at close range and skirting out of reach of its retaliation. Not that France would ever do that of course, he preferred less life threatening activities, but he was beginning to see the charm that if held.

Thus, early morning, France set off in a rather pleasant mood. He was adorned in his newest outfit (merely to rise the ire of the envious little nation) and made his way from village to village inspiring awe from the local inhabitants in search of the island nation.

Unfortunately, England turned out to be quite difficult to find. France spent hours looking for him, asking villagers and trudging through less than favorable terrain. The environment was taking a toll on France's clothing (his boots especially) and his patience.

Eventually, the sun had begun to set and France had yet to find England. It felt like he had combed the countryside and it seemed no one remembered seeing a messy child with horrendous eyebrows. He made a point to emphasis the eyebrows.

_Mou dieu! What monstrous things! _ France managed to suppress a shudder as he seated himself on rock a little ways from the path that he was now on.

He was traveling on a lone dirt road tired and irritable. Part of the young nation was sorely tempted to give up his search and return to his comfortable home. There in his beautiful home he could freshen up and rest his weary body. Maybe, he would even accept an invitation to an evening out, to help him forget the memory of this horrid day.

However, France's mind was set to find the little brat and give him hell in the name of France's ruined outfit.

Face set in fierce determination, France tore his gaze away from the misfortune of his footwear and looked up to ready himself to resume his quest.

He glanced up to only for his eyes to land on the object of his search. There at the edge of the forest was England, picking flowers with his grubby hands and an expression unusually absent of a scowl.

France sprung to his feet, pain and tattered clothes forgotten. He inhaled deeply, preparing to throw his voice to catch the attention of the other, when an odd shift of a shadow amongst the trees caught his eyes and his breath died in his throat.

At first, he didn't believe it. He refused to believe it. He was so sure he was imaging things after such an exhausting journey. His eyes must be tired. He blinked several times, ignoring the churning dread making its way through his gut. Yet, every time his lids reopened he was faced with the horrifying reality again and again.

There not far from England, lurked a shadowed figure, _huge_, barely obscured by the trunks of trees. Even in the quickening darkness France could see piercing red eyes glazed with hunger trained on the fair-haired child

Even as France's body stood paralyzed, his mind raced. He was unarmed aside from a small hunting knife, which could hardly be considered a weapon if France had gauged the creatures size correctly. England was too far away for him to snatch up the little nation up and run for it.

The sounds of the forest were overpowered by the drumming of France's heart. The departing gleam of an orange sun is enough light to leave sight to a flicker of sharp teeth posed in a snarl. He watched as the creature slowly stalked closer to the unaware nation.

_No!_

"_Angleterre_!" he called

Said nation snapped to attention at his name, and catching sight of France, scowled. France noted that the creature had paused in its steady advance and was now glaring in his direction. There was no time for fear, only action.

"How in the world are you ever going to become as attractive as _moi_ by playing in the dirt, you silly child? Is it not time for you to change out of rags?" France made a point to show off his now slightly less impressive outfit.

Sure enough, England abandoned his task to hop to his feet and snarl at the French nation. He, however, did not move from his spot.

France would not allow himself to panic, due to England's apparent stationary position or the fact that that the creature was no longer interested in him and had once again focused its attention on England.

France called out to him once again, shutting out the slight quiver that tried to leak into his voice.

"Oh, you scare me, _mon_ _petit Angleterre_! Growling at me like the little brute that you are! Come and show me how frightening you truly are. That is, if your stout little stubs you call legs can keep up with my long luxurious limbs!" With that, France took off in the direction that he had come. He did not glance back to see if he was being followed, by England or otherwise.

France did not stop at the sound of England snapping obscenities at his heels. The weight of his expensive clothes and the sobbing of his weathered feet meant nothing as he dashed to safety. As France ran he let his fear fall behind him, left it to keep company with the terrors that lurked in the night.

**A/N****: ***coughs* Ahem! The creature in trees was suppose to be something of an ogre, but I have yet to brush up on my monster lore, so I apologize if it was somewhat lacking.

Anyway, this was kind of sparked by the idea that Francis couldn't be all that bad. In fact, I imagined him as the behind-the-scenes hero who helps out without a second thought, but refuses to take any credit. Thus, My Brother's Keeper a.k.a. France as the GOOD GUY!! I'm hoping to make this into a series and I already have few more ideas floating about. The creature in trees was suppose to be something of an ogre, but I have yet to brush up on my monster lore, so I apologize if it was somewhat lacking.

Also, please alert me to any corrections that I need to make. This story is as of now without a beta. And reviews are **love**!!!

Thanks for reading!


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